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Draco stretched languidly as he awoke, rolling towards the middle of the bed, expecting to find Harry’s warm body curled next to him. What he discovered instead were cool sheets and the sound of a heated argument in the hall.
Seconds later, Harry burst into the bedroom carrying a tray laden with breakfast for two. Behind him, Kreacher followed grumpily, levitating his own tray and making disparaging comments that weren’t quite low enough to be ignored.
“Master Harry Potter should not be in Kreacher’s kitchen. Kreacher lives to serve the Noble House of Black and is honored to have his Most Esteemed Master Draco Malfoy Sir in his humble abode. Kreacher will serve dutifully.”
“Kreacher, I am trying to bring Draco breakfast in bed. It was supposed to be a romantic gesture.” Harry huffed as he levitated his tray of food towards Draco, who was now propped against the headboard, eyes glinting in amusement over the spectacle.
“Kreacher serves the House of Black. Harry Potter sir does not have the,” Kreacher paused for dramatic effect to insult Harry, “proper education in pureblood cuisine.”
“Pureblood cuisine, Kreacher, it's BREAKFAST, I can cook a perfectly respectable fry-up for the two of us.” Harry rolled his eyes as he walked, exasperated, towards the side of the bed Draco slept on, placing a quick kiss to his forehead.
“A fry-up,” Kreacher croaked with disdain, “is not a meal fit for a Black.” With a snap of his gnarled fingers, Kreacher vanished the tray, completely ignoring Harry’s squawk of fury over his breakfast efforts literally cast into thin air.
Then, Kreacher’s tray of French delicacies settled elegantly at Draco’s side, croque madame, baguettes, fresh marmalade, escargot and three different pastries.
Draco had to admit, as much as he adored when Harry cooked for him, this tray did look exquisite. One look at his partner’s growling face though, and Draco had to hide his reaction to the delicious looking meal.
Kreacher bowed low, “Enjoy your breakfast Esteemed Master.” And then he popped out of the bedroom without even acknowledging Harry’s existence.
“I should give him clothes.” Harry groaned as he collapsed onto the midnight blue duvet next to Draco. “I don’t even think he cooked any for me.”
Harry’s whine was way more adorable than it should be for a 25-year-old Auror bested by an octogenarian house elf. Offering a bit of marmalade toast out to his pouting boyfriend, Draco replied. “Well, then you are lucky I like you enough to share.”
“He almost started to like me before you showed up.”
Draco laughed. “Poor Savior, can’t stand that his house-elf likes someone else more.”
It was true though, since he and Harry had started dating four months earlier, the elf had practically treated Draco like royalty. In turn, Draco had a soft spot for the old curmudgeon. Kreacher had been his minder at the Black estate when he was just a small boy and had always treated him with kindness. Plus, Kreacher was probably the only living being on the planet besides his mother that preferred him over Harry Potter, and that fact made him preen, just a little.
•••
Draco was having a long day. All he wanted was to get out of the potion’s lab, and head over to Grimmauld Place for a nice intimate dinner with Harry. He hated to admit it, but he felt at home in Harry's townhouse and loved spending as much time there as possible. He was especially fond of spending time with Harry as well, more than fond if he was brutally honest.
Draco recalled the scuffle a few days prior, the barmy breakfast showdown. As much as Draco loved spurring Kreacher on and annoying Harry, he did find it incredibly touching how much effort the other man put into cooking for him. It was something unexpected, and it delighted him how much Harry enjoyed making him feel cherished.
Stepping from the floo and into Grimmauld’s drawing room, Draco could once again hear the commotion of Harry and Kreacher battling it out over the kitchen.
“Master Harry Potter will STAY OUT of Kreacher’s domain!!! Poor Master Draco. He is going to starve without Kreacher’s culinary skills.” Kreacher was agitated, Draco could hear from his raspy voice, taking in the sight of the elf brandishing kitchen utensils at Harry. From the tone, Draco could only imagine what happened now.
“He will not starve Kreacher, I am perfectly capable of feeding a guest in my own home, even if it is from a takeaway menu because there is no food in the house.”
“That’s because bad Master Harry Potter BANISHED all the food.”
Draco pressed his fingertips to his temple. Merlin, all he wanted was some peace and quiet with his partner, and there he was- Harry Potter, vanquisher of Dark Lords everywhere, engaged in a battle of wills with an ancient house elf.
Draco barked the words out before he could even think of how terrible an idea this was. “If you both want to feed me so badly, why don’t you just compete for it.”
He expected laughter, a dismissal at least from Harry. What he did not expect was Harry and Kreacher wholeheartedly agreeing to the idea of a cook-off between them. Whether it was for Draco’s approval, and affection, or because they were both stubborn and wanted to one up each other, Draco didn’t know anymore.
What he did know is that his fantasy of a relaxing evening was completely out of the question now...
•••
Draco thought the whole thing was rather preposterous, but he went along with it anyway. It wasn’t as if either Harry or Kreacher were going to back down. And maybe, after this was all over, he could enjoy time with his boyfriend and “their” slightly sycophantic elf in peace.
As per the newly decided rules of this nonsensical food war, each would have three hours to make a meal they thought Draco would like best. Kreacher was going to prepare his meal first, and then set it under stasis while Harry would prepare his own dish.
Neither would give any hints as to what they were making and they were both taking it so seriously. Merlin, he was actually going to have to choose a winner from this whole ordeal.
Ridiculous.
Draco dozed in the warmth of Grimmauld’s parlour, content as Kreacher and Harry flexed their culinary skills.
He was gently awakened by a warm hand on his shoulder.
“You know I wouldn’t go to this much trouble for anyone else, right?” Harry was so close, eyes sparkling in a way that made Draco’s heart skip several beats.
Instead of answering, Draco leaned up to give Harry a kiss, humming as he pulled away long enough to stand up and pull Harry close.
They were interrupted by a croak behind them. Kreacher arrived with a tea towel over his spindly little arm, and the most reverent look Harry had ever seen on his gnarled face.
“Esteemed Master Draco Malfoy Sir, Kreacher humbly requests your presence in the dining room.”
“This whole thing is ridiculous,” Draco chuckled. “You could quite literally order him to let you in the kitchen or anywhere else for that matter.”
Harry shrugged, a glint in his eye. “I know, but he’s enjoying himself, and to be honest, I’ve enjoyed driving him mad.”
They made their way to the dining room as Kreacher began levitating out what looked to be an entire Hogwarts feast. There was bouillabaisse, lobster, truffles, three different kinds of gratin, and that was only the dishes that were near him.
Draco’s eyes were wide with wonder, the little elf, crotchety as he was, really went overboard to make Draco happy. And, as he sampled morsel after morsel, everything was cooked to perfection.
“Kreacher everything is exquisite. Well done.” Draco didn’t think elves could blush, but he swore he saw a pink tint to Kreacher’s face.
Harry brought out his dish next. One single dish, carried over to Draco by hand. Harry actually looked a little nervous when confronted with Kreacher’s feast, and Draco wasn’t sure what this offering would contain.
“I know it's not fancy, but you once told me this was a perfect meal from your childhood.” Harry lifted off the servette cover and brandished the crockery towards Draco.
It was ratatouille.
Drcao’s absolute favorite. The only dish Narcissa had ever prepared herself, and only when it had been just the two of them in their French country house. It was one of his happiest and most carefree memories.
Draco felt his eyes well up at the memory and at the knowledge that this was something he had divulged to Harry only once. It was a throwaway comment on their first date.
“I love you.” The words were out of his mouth before he could fight them back. Harry’s eyes widened in surprise and a blinding smile came over his features.
Kreacher broke the moment by clearing his throat, even though the elf seemingly looked pleased.
“Master must choose a winner.”
“Move in with me. With us. Here.” Harry interrupted the elf, coming to stand directly in front of Draco.
“Kreacher, if Draco agrees to move in here to Grimmauld with us, can we call this whole thing a tie?”
Kreacher nodded enthusiastically. “Master Harry would let Kreacher serve both him and Master Draco full time?”
Harry nodded. “Only if you can convince Master Draco to say yes!”
“Draco finally found his voice, and absolutely no hesitation in his answer. “I would be honored.”
Harry pulled him from the table, kissing him soundly, whispering ‘I love you too’ against Draco’s ear as Kreacher bounced on his elderly little feet, a full blown smile on his face.
“Kreacher will even allow Master Harry into his kitchen ONCE a week.” The elf offered.
Harry laughingly accepted the deal, pulling Draco along in his embrace as he gamely shook Kreacher’s hand.
“Now, who’s hungry, I think we have enough to feed an entire army.”